


My Diary

by ElliePallas



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 06:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7212394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElliePallas/pseuds/ElliePallas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha forms a habit of recording each passing day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Diary

Day 1096. Showers.

 

This morning, I smashed my car in an intersection, since I lost in thought and did not pay any freaking attention to the changing traffic lights. Normal people make such stupid mistake, right? I AM normal now so you do not blame it on me.

 

Since more than a thousand days ago, I have retuned myself to a normal life and forgotten all about the ridiculous idea of saving the world or something. It is my personal antidote to orthodox condolence. That is also the reason why I choose to fit myself into a secular commercial corporation and rent an ordinary apartment in Manhattan now.

 

It gives me a break with tranquil life despite of the busy work for so-called office lady.

 

However, Steve Rogers never believes this is “normal”. The muscular-but-still-meticulous solider had kept trying to persuade me into some kind of therapy, ever since that day of sorrow three years ago.

 

He insisted that it would benefit me.

 

But who need therapy? It means that you make your confession and tear yourself apart in front of of a stranger, and at the end you have to pay for it!

 

Black Widow is the last one in the world who needs such a hilarious therapy.

 

Anyway, I appreciate Steve’s kindness.I truly do. So finally, I accepted only one idea that he, or his recommended therapist, gave me.

 

To write diary.

 

Black Widow might scoff at this, but, I am Natasha Romanoff. I started to write diary and it surprised me that I really can form a habit. It is normal too, isn’t it? Natasha Romanoff is the role I take on to relieve the pain, if I can define the feeling as “pain”. To record something in a diary is an intimate stuff that might remind me of something when I grow older and older. Although, it appears to be already too late.

 

That something has already gone, when the brunette got herself killed in a battle.

 

I tried to clarify my thought as I were standing in the garage this afternoon and watched the mechanic with navy-blue overalls checking the bumper of my Toyota Camry. A flashback blasted into my head and heavily squeezed my brain.

 

I thought of her, again, even though if it were her, it should be my Quinjet, instead of a common vehicle.

 

Just like yesterday morning, I went into a café to buy my breakfast. The new waitress behind the bar counter with tall and slim figure, made my Americano with an identical skilled move. That image hit me at once like Thor swings his hammer on me.

 

It was neither the first time nor the last. Just like the mechanic in front of me. But every time, a kind of grief swallowed me.

 

Déjà vu. That is all I am confronted with during these thousand days.

 

Something is running in my vein and I had never realized. During these thousand days, I gradually found that I had always take things for granted.

 

You rely your survival on oxygen but you never feel its existence until you are asphyxiated.

 

Both Black Widow and Natasha Romanoff had neglected that concerned blue eyes focused on them before and after each mission, until the death of the tall woman.

 

Maria Hill.

 

I can just throw a white Lily on her coffin. When those brown soil shoveled onto the white wood, all of a sudden I feel like engulfed in a tsunami and numerous photos transited before me like a slideshow.

 

All of the images belonged to her.

 

I had failed to realize that passion until now, only to find the tragedy of parting had become a history before a possible beginning of happiness.

 

Nothing I can do, except writing down every tiny thing happens to Natasha Romanoff in each day, so that I can feel the world in the way of her. In the way of a normal humanity.

 

Good night, my almost lover.

 

(END)

**Author's Note:**

> It is just an odd idea suddenly comes into my head. Don't be picky.


End file.
